


Stripperific

by americalovesthecockpit



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America's POV, CanUS, Crack, M/M, Multi, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, UKUS, lulz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americalovesthecockpit/pseuds/americalovesthecockpit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a week, all the countries must gather at a strip club and watch the loser of a bet perform. America really doesn't want to do deal with that though. He'd rather just eat pizza. The other countries are determined to fix this ... especially England and Canada. Total crack and lulz, UKUS and CanUS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stripperific

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was for DangerousDollie at FFN who requested a stripper fic! 
> 
> Please read: This is both UKUS and CanUS, though mostly one sided. Other pairings are also mentioned. And this isn't rape, but America isn't too thrilled about the things that happen to him in this fic, so I'm warning for that.
> 
> Written in America's POV.

As soon I heard the news, I flew straight to England. I dropped everything and bought the first plane ticket to London. I just couldn't believe what I heard. Could the rumor be true?

Oh. Oh, it was! Sweet merciful Jesus, it was true!

ENGLAND'S PIZZA HUTS HAVE HOT DOG STUFFED CRUST PIZZA!

I wept tears of joy when the Pizza Hut peoples brought the pizza to me and I saw it with my own eyes. You read right: pizza, that for the crust … is stuffed with hot dogs. HOT DOGS. In the CRUST. (This is true facts, by the way. I didn't make this up. It's a real thing. If you don't believe me, check the Google.)

"Oh, you beautiful wiener-stuffed dough," I said, picking up my first slice. "GET IN MY MOUTH."

It was weird. This was a new thing in UK Pizza Huts. And yet, they weren't in my country! What gives? It totally seems like something I'd come up with, ya know? Why would England of all countries be the one to create this glorious wiener idea? What, was he trying to get me to come out here since I kept ignoring his calls? Haha, England. You lonely crazy son of a bitch.

But mmmm … yeeeeah. This was some good pizza. I was scarfing that crap down like NOMNOMNOM. I had a whole booth in the Pizza Hut to myself, a whole pizza to myself, and the whole night to just down as many hot dog stuffed slices as I wanted. My plan was to eat until I was physically sick, they go back to the hotel, sleep, and then come back tomorrow for more, rinse and repeat, hehe.

As I ate my pizza, I saw Italy staring at me through the window of the Pizza Hut restaurant. He looked sad. A single tear slid down his cheek.

I know he thinks sticking hot dogs in pizza is blasphemy, but psssh. Whatever. Blasphemy tastes great!

I ignored him and his drama, and went back to the scarfing material that was my delicious pizza.

When I was on my fourth slice, nomming happy as a clam, suddenly two people sat down in the booth with me. One on each side. They did it all stealthy and mysterious, like they thought they were cool or something.

"Hello, America," said one.

"Yes, greetings, America," said the other.

"What do you guys want?" I asked, mouth full of hot dog and pizza. "I'm trying to stuff my face over here."

"You have not been attending the world meetings rike you are required to, America-san," said Japan. "They are mandatory."

"Yes," said France. "Your chubby, doughy American derrière had better be zere tonight!"

Hot dog and pizza spewed from my mouth. "WHAT! I go to all the world meetings!"

"Not those meetings." Japan looked at me creepily. "The special meetings."

"… oh."

"You've missed six in a row!" cried France. "How could you do zis to me? !"

"You must go tonight," said Japan. "Also, we are here for this week's challenge. Are you ready?"

"No," I pouted. "I'm eating pizza."

You guys are probably wondering WTF is going on. Well, stop wondering. You know I'm gonna explain it to you, so just relax. What, did you think I was gonna leave you hanging? Come on, baby. I would never do that to you.

So I shall explain! It all started a few years ago when some of the countries got drunk and horny together. France was like, "Let's take all our clothes off!" (and said it in that ridiculous French accent, so please picture it silly like that.) The other countries should have been like "France, GTFO" but for some reason they were like "OKAY!"

Then Japan, being the sneaky Japanese businessman he is, decided to capitalize on this. What started as a gay naked free for all eventually, over a couple years and all, turned into an organized business. A country strip club. Japan wrote the rules, and they go like this:

Once a month, all the countries shall gather at the club. He named it the Peninsula Hammock. Anyway, we all meet there and one of the countries has to put on a strip show for everyone. Who, you wonder? Baby, I told you to stop wondering. I'm gonna take care of you, okay? The person who has to strip is whoever loses that week's challenge.

The challenges started off as stuff like drinking games. Then they got weirder, like Micronation tossing. That's like midget tossing, except we throw Micronations instead. (Sealand hates that one, LOL.) Now they're just stupid random bullcrap like guessing how many meatballs Sweden can fit into his mouth.

Of course, I never wanted to go to these stupid meetings. France throws his challenges on purpose so half the time it's just him dancing, and who wants to see that? The man is a hairy beast. Pubes as far as the eye can see! Someone needs to tuck a Gillette Razor in his G-string instead of a single.

"Why haven't you been going? !" asked France dramatically. "Everyone loves ze Peninsula Hammock!"

"Not me," I said with my cheeks all puffy and full of pizza.

"Tell me why!" he demanded.

"Because it's a total sausage fest!" I swallowed a piece of hot dog. "And not the good kind. You know. With actual sausages. I meant there's too much dick—"

"But you do not go even when a female country performs," said Japan. "Is there another reason you do not want to attend?"

"Yeah, I'm tired of seeing Francey Pants' hairy junk swinging around every week."

France slammed his fists on the table. "Everyone loves my performances!"

"Prease, calm down, France-san," said Japan. Then he looked to me and said, "America-san, it is bad for my business that you do not attend. Others are wondering why you don't come, and I worry they will stop coming as well."

I shrugged. "Sorry, dude. I don't really feel like shelling out cover pay to see a forest of hair. I can watch Animal Planet at my house for free."

"Sacre bleu!" exclaimed France. "Zere is nothing wrong with going au natural! Is it a beautiful thing!"

"That much hair is not natural …"

"Gentlemen, prease," interrupted Japan. "Ret's not argue. America-san, you must do this week's challenge. You are the only country who hasn't done it yet."

"Ugh, FINE!" I sighed. "What is it this time?"

"It is very simple." Japan pulled out his cell phone. "You must simply watch a video and try not to laugh. Whoever lasts in the shortest amount of time is the loser and must perform next week."

France held up a stop watch. "Are you ready, America?"

"That's it?" I took one more bite, then set down my pizza. "I got this. Play the video, Japan."

Japan held his phone out for me to see. He hit play and I saw Adrian Brody in his bed.

"Oh cool," I said. "I like Adrian Brody."

Then he started bobbing back and forth on the screen. Just back and forth. As different backgrounds changed behind him.

And there was this jaunty tune. SO JAUNTY!

I thought, dang this is the easier challenge ever. I just gotta watch Adrian Brody go to the carnival and aquarium and other adventures. Hardly anything was even happening in the video. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut and this challenge would be a snap.

"HAHAHAHAHA — augh, fuck—"

France clicked the watch. "Wow. Zat was one of ze shortest times yet."

Japan nodded. "Yes. Maybe even the shortest."

"Aw, crap."

I started to panic. Why did I find that video so funny? ! Like nothing was going on! He was just moving back and forth on the screen with different backgrounds! With a jaunty tune! Yet I couldn't stop laughing! Damn you BrodyQuest!

Japan was scrolling down his phone. "I'm checking now to see if anyone had a shorter time than you."

I stuffed my pizza in my pizza hole for comfort. I'd never had to be the one to perform before! I always rocked the challenges like a boss so I never lost. I don't wanna cram Florida in a G-string and awkwardly grind myself against a pole! The only thing I wanna cram is more hot dog stuffed crust pizza into my gullet!

"Oh my," said Japan. "I'm sorry to inform you, America-san. But you have the shortest time."

"NOOOOOOO!" I wailed. "I don't wanna get up on a stage and shake my groove thang!"

"You do not have a choice," said France. "You lost ze challenge. You must strip for ze WORLD!"

Damn you, Adrian Brody. For your repetitive adventures and catchy tune and well-chiseled jaw and handsome smile … WTF was I talking about. Oh yeah. Me not wanting to get stripperific in front of all the other countries.

I crossed my arms. "I refuse," I pouted. "I'm not doing it."

France scoffed. "PEH! If you don't, we shall tell your boss about how you are shoveling hot dog stuffed pizza in your mouth nonstop."

"Um, whatever, I don't c – aw, crap …"

If France tells Obama on me, Obama is definitely gonna tell his wife! And Michelle is ALWAYS bitching about how I need to eat right. She put me on a diet and everything! You know all those anti-childhood obesity charity crap things she does? Well, for some reason, she treats me like a kid too. Always making me spit out delicious foods like fried Oreos (real things, mm yeah) and making me eat steamed arugula and crap from her garden from the White House. Y'all ever had arugula? It sure don't taste like fried Oreos …

"Noooo," I whined. "If Michelle finds out I've been pigging out on hot dog stuffed crust pizza she'll make me eat crap like spinach and asparagus for weeks! And asparagus makes my pee smell weird!"

France smirked at me. "So you will do as we say zen."

GRRRRR!

Well, I had a choice. I could give up possibly the best scarfing material I've ever had the experience of putting in my mouth. Or I could get up on a stage, take off my clothes, and dance around for all the other countries to see.

There was only one thing I could do.

I closed my eyes solemnly. "Very well," I said in a quiet voice. "I will strip for y'all."

"Excellent," replied France. "Wear zat old uniform of yours from WW2, will you? Ze one with ze bomber jacket. Ooh, and if you can find your old aviator goggles, wear zem too. It would be a stunning site to see you wearing nothing but zem, HONHONHON!"

"Yes," Japan said very quickly, with his eyes all dark. "America-san wearing nothing but aviator goggles does sound rike something I — excuse me, I mean, the other countries, would really rike."

"… you guys are fucked up."

"Zere must be a theme!" said France. "Zis is what we chose. We run ze club, so you must accept our demands!"

"But there are so many better ideas!" I said. "Like I could dress as a sexy cowboy or policeman or Indian chief – crap, that's the Village People—"

"You will dress as we say," said France all sternly. "I actually had a specific request from a patron for zis particular outfit."

"Whaaa … who? Who the heck wanted me to wear that?"

"You do not need to know."

:I

X

So I was all bummed about showing the world my bum. Like I wanna get up on a stage and prance about naked, my dingle all dangling for everyone to see! I have my dignity, you know. And I will not look very dignified when everyone sees the pudge I gained eating all that hot dog stuffed crust pizza.

I was gonna have a muffin top hanging over my G-string! :O

That's not smexy.

I was all depressed and no one consoled me except more hot dog stuffed crust pizza. I shoveled it down my throat as tears streamed down my face.

I was taking a break with some cheesy bread when it hit me. A brilliant plan to get out of this mess! And all I had to do was buy another plane ticket …

So there I was. Standing in front of Canada's igloo. Pounding on the door.

"DUDE OPEN UP IT'S ME COME ON HURRY UP—"

The igloo door finally opened. "I'm coming! Please, not so loud!" bitched Canada when he opened it.

I shoved my way in, past Canada. "Hey, bro. We need to talk. Can you do me a solid?"

Canada closed the door behind me. "Umm … that depends. What is it?"

I flopped on his couch. "Well, thanks to Adrian Brody, I have lost this week's challenge." I gave him a look. "You know what challenge I'm talking about."

Suddenly Canada's faced changed. "Boy do I!" he exclaimed way too happily. "YOU LOST? !" He said that way too happily too …

:I

"Uh … yeah …" I replied. "So I'm next up to … you know. Perform."

"I'm sorry." He said that but he was smiling nervously …

"But I won't!" I said all determinedly. "I'm not getting up there and taking off my clothes and showing the entire world my junk! And my pudge … and my love handles … and my jiggly thighs … or my stretch marks—"

"No one cares about that," interrupted Canada, shrugging. "I mean, I barely even noticed those four or five kilos you've gained in just a couple weeks."

If four or five kilos was a lot, I'm pissed. But I don't understand the metric system, so I don't really know.

"If you didn't notice them why then why did you point that out so quickly? !" I mean, he was guesstimating the number and everything! "Obviously it's noticeable! There's no way I'm getting up on that stage. I look even fatter with my clothes off. Plus I'm too lazy to shave my balls."

Canada frowned. "You don't have a choice. They'll force you …"

"Welp, that's why I'm here …" I leaned back on the couch, putting my feet up on Canada's coffee table. Canada didn't seem too happy when I did that. "I gotta plan. You know how we look alike?"

Canada sat down on the other side of the couch, looking very suspiciously at me. "Yeeeah …"

"Well, yeah, that's pretty much the extent of the plan. You look like me so you can take my place."

"EH! !"

"Aw, come on, dude," I begged. "Do me a solid, please?"

"Why would I want to do it either? !" he exclaimed. "Stripping and pole dancing is not exactly my strong suit! You're the one who lost the challenge, you should have to do it."

"Pleeeeease?" I begged some more. "I'll do a favor for you too! I mean, I don't know what, but whatever. We'll think of someth—"

"I'll do it," Canada said very quickly.

"What? YOU WILL? ! Wow, that was easy peasey! Thanks, dude!"

"But in exchange …" Why did Canada suddenly look kinda creepy? "You owe me one favor. Of my choice. Anything I want. Any time. I can call it in whenever I want and you can't say no. Agreed?"

"Um … I guess …"

"GREAT!"

As I left a little while later, walking away from Canada's igloo and looking back at him waving goodbye to me in a slightly creepy way, I couldn't help but worry. I'd never seen Canada act quite like that before. He's a quiet guy. He doesn't get excited about too much. Maybe stupid crap like pancakes or hockey or beavers, but he was even more excited than that.

Oh well. At least I was getting out of having to strip for everyone. And that meant I could go back to eating all the hot dog stuffed crust pizza I wanted, since it didn't matter if I gained a little weight if no one saw me naked anyway. I'll just wear lazy sweatpants until I get off my ass and exercise the weight off.

Until then? It's scarfing time :D

X

Why do they call the little pizzas personal pan pizzas? All my pizzas are personal if I don't share them. And I don't. I pondered this as I started on my third pizza, back in one of the UK Pizza Huts. Hmm … what a mystery …

But oh well.

NOMNOMNOM.

A week had gone by. Canada had performed for me and no one had a clue. Thank God the other countries are dummies and don't even notice our different eye colors and haircuts, LOL. Man they're stupid. But good for me! Everyone wins. I didn't have to strip, all the countries got their sick perverted show, and Canada gets a favor. But uh, I didn't really want to think about that.

Just the pizza. Mmmm yeah so good … I couldn't get enough in my mouth …

I was so engulfed in engorging myself I didn't even notice when someone else slid into the booth with me. I looked up to grab my Coke and saw England sitting across the table at me, glaring.

I spewed pizza everywhere.

"ENGLAND? !" I said, pizza bits still flying out of my mouth. "What the heck are you doing here? !"

"This is my country, you know." Oh … he did not look happy …

"Yeah, but this is my booth. What the fudge do you want?"

He looked away. "Oh, only to tell you something … something very interesting …"

I kept munching my pizza. "Mmwhat?"

"Hmm, let's see. It all started last night, at the Peninsula Hammock." Oh, this won't be good … "I thought I'd have a rather enjoyable evening, seeing as how I heard that you were performing."

My chewing slowed. "What …"

"And things began that way," he continued. "Shall I describe it for you? I'll paint a vivid mental picture … the club is dimly lit. Everyone has taken their seats, either at a table or the close seats near the stage with the jutting runway. The music starts and everyone quiets. The DJ announces tonight's performer: America. Stripping out of his WW2 uniform. Everyone hushes, grinning in anticipation, craning their necks and squinting their eyes to see. The spotlight comes on, the curtain opens, and you come out! Dressed in your uniform as promised, even with aviator goggles, and the music becomes louder."

"Cool story, bro—"

"I am not done," snapped England. "Where was I? Oh, yes. The spotlight follows you as you walk, swaying your hips ever so slightly, wearing those tall black boots, to the pole in the center of the stage. You swing around it, grind yourself into it, gradually shedding article after article of clothing until there is nothing left but a G-string and those aviator goggles."

I swallowed nervously. (Swallowed some pizza.) "R … right …"

"Then you walk down the runway. So many countries are excited, myself included. Reaching up as you strut by to slip singles into your G-string. For just a couple seconds to be close to you, to brush against your skin …"

The hell?

"I myself put a very large bill in your G-string," continued England. "You seemed very happy about that. Gave me some extra attention. You turned around and backed up. Backed your arse right in my face and smacked it. Then looked over your shoulder and instructed me to do the same."

Where the heck did Canada learn this? ! Do they got strip clubs made out of igloos in his country too? !

"So I did," said England. "I smacked your arse rather well. And it was brilliant."

"Uh …" I suddenly interrupted. "Th-that's great England. But I was there, you don't gotta explain everything to me."

"Did I say I was done?" he asked all rudely. "Now, I had Japan film this. He filmed your entire performance, and sold it to me. I took it home last night."

Oh God …

"I took it to my bedroom."

OH GOD …

"I watched it from my bed." England stared into my eyes. "And I pleasured myself to it."

SWEET JESUS

"Twice."

SWEET, SWEET BABY JESUS

"Then again this morning. However …" England looked away. "I received a phone call afterwards. A very disturbing phone call. From France."

I was afraid to ask. I was so nervous I actually stopped cramming pizza into my mouth. "What … what did he say?"

"He informed me, in the sly, infuriating way he always does, that last night's performer was not you at all." England glared hardcore at me. "It was Canada pretending to be you."

I narrowed my eyes. "France," I spat, like how Jerry always said Newman's name. Newman …

"I pleasured myself to the wrong person!" England suddenly cried. "How could you do this? !"

I held up my arms defensively. (Arms that should have been shoving hot dog stuffed crust pizza in my mouth.) "Whoooa! Dude, I didn't even know you liked me like that –"

"I was so excited that it was finally you performing!" he practically sobbed. "I'd been waiting years for that day! Praying to God, conjuring Satan – either one, I didn't care! As long as one of them gave me what I wanted!"

"Dude, calm down!" Wait a minute … "… did you say Satan?"

England suddenly slammed his hands on the table, making my pizza jump for a second. "I won't stand for this. You must admit your lie and perform this week!"

"Hell no."

"If you don't …" England had one creepy smirk on his face. "I'll tell everyone it was Canada instead of you. And you'll be forced to take the stage since you skipped out on your rightful turn."

I shrugged. "France apparently already knows and doesn't give a crap. Go ahead, tell people. I don't care."

"You don't care …!" started England, very angrily. "But I'll expose your lie!"

I shrugged again. "Meh. I'd rather my lie be exposed than my ass. And my dangle."

"Fine," said England, though he definitely didn't sound fine. "But I'll have you know this, I'm going to make sure France and Japan force you to come to next week's meeting."

"… why do you care if I go?"

England chuckled creepily to himself, then said, "Because I performed absolutely dreadfully on this week's challenge."

I gasped. "You mean? !"

"Yes," he said, staring in my eyes and creeping me out. "I will almost certainly be this week's performer. And I'm going to do such a bloody good job, you'll be begging to crawl into my bed."

How scandalous :O

"Well … uh …" I glanced around nervously. Then I came up with a NEW brilliant idea! "What if I throw the challenge too? ! And just get Canada to take my place again? !"

"Oh, please. You will do so well at this challenge. Even if you don't try, you will still out-perform almost every country."

"Why …" I said, narrowing my eyes in confusion. "What is it?"

England smirked. "Rap battle."

"FFFFFFFF—"

"That's right! You may as well not even try to not even try."

He was right :( I'm like the best rapper of the all the countries. What can I say? It's in my blood. I bust sweet rhymes like it's my job. I would do good no matter what. I got 99 problems but a rap battle ain't one.

"I will take the stage." England stood up, smirking down at me. "And you will watch me. And you will be seduced by me."

"Um …"

His eyes narrowed. "You don't have a choice."

Then he left me to my pizza.

I had no idea England wanted to stuff his hot dog in my crust. I guess that's how he got this idea for the pizza. It was a weird thing to think about as I kept on eating all night long.

X

"HOW COULD YOU TELL HIM? !" I yelled into the phone that night after I puked up a lot of pizza like a bulimic. I was back at the hotel, flopped on my bed. "THANKS A LOOOOOT, FRANCE!"

"My, my," said France on the other line. "Someone sounds like zey have had a few too many slices, no?"

"Why? !" I sobbed. "Why did you tell him? ! Everything would have been fine if you'd just have kept your big smelly wine-drinking, clove cigarette-smoking, dick-sucking mouth SHUT!"

"I saw ze way England looked at you — ah, Canada — zat evening. With such desire. And when I found out he'd purchased a copy of ze performance for his viewing pleasure? I could not stay silent."

"Uh, YES YOU COULD HAVE!"

"It would be a lie," said France. "He deserved to know ze truth. I knew he would masturbate to it and what a tragedy it'd be to fantasize and touch oneself over someone under false pretenses. I simply had to right zis wrong!"

"LIAR!" I shouted into the phone. "You just wanted to make drama, like you always do!"

"Perhaps," said France. "But my reasoning sounds so much better, no?"

"NO! How the heck did you even know it was Canada anyway? No one else figured it out."

"Ah, America, you underestimate me," he said so patronizingly. "It was rather obvious, wasn't it? Ze slight nervousness, ze softness of his voice, ze way he let me actually take him back to my place and have my way with him. You know — subtle things."

"WHAT? !" I exclaimed, near about dropping the phone. "You had the sex with him? !"

"Oui, I did, but I must tell you—"

"You know England wants to bang me now, right?" I interrupted. "Because of you, he's gonna perform next week and he thinks he's gonna seduce me or something. And he's being all creepy about it."

"Yes, I had a feeling something like zat would happen. I thought it'd work out. I didn't expect things to suddenly become so complicated …"

"… whaa?"

"A love triangle is painful thing, no?"

" … um …"

"I was about to tell you before you so rudely interrupted, America," began France, "but when Canada and I made le amour last night after cooking soufflés together, he called out your name during climax."

Aaaawkward.

"… dude, are you for real?"

"Oui," he replied. "He confessed to imagining that I was you the entire time. Zen he cried as we ate soufflés together."

"Holy schnikes …"

"Zey were good soufflés."

I dropped the phone. I couldn't believe this. Finding out two people very much wanted to bang me in one day? It was a lot to take in. Possibly a lot of dick to take in. Why does everyone wanna stuff their hot dog into my dough? ! Is my four or five kilo overweight ass really that tempting? ! I don't even know. I don't understand the metric system.

X

On the threat that France would tell Michelle Obama about my hot dog stuffed pizza addiction, I really did have to go to England's performance. One week just flew by! I thought it'd pass by slow, considering how nervous I was about all this and trying desperately to avoid both Canada and England. I did avoid them all week, because I just stayed at Pizza Hut all day, but I knew I'd see England and probably Canada too at the Peninsula Hammock.

But it wouldn't be too hard, right? I mean, it's not like I was really gonna be seduced by England. It was gonna be awkward, sure, but not exactly a challenge to resist him. Watching BrodyQuest without laughing — now that's a challenge.

I wasn't even gonna put any singles in his G-string. I was gonna sit in the back, drink a couple eleven dollar Shirley Temples because the club has a two-drink minimum and I refuse to get drunk in a situation like this, and do my best not to pay attention to the show.

You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink! Just like you can lead me to a strip club but you can't make me get a boner. Or drink either. I told you I was having Shirley Temples so we already established that.

Well, that was my plan anyway. Except when I got there, France said I had to sit right up front! Right by the runway part of the stage! I was like WTF! Assigned seating? What is this, elementary school? Can I write my name on a piece of paper and fold it in half and then put it up on the end of my desk as a name plate? I mean, come on. This was a strip club. No one else had an assigned seat! This was a set-up …

France made me sit in this 2-person table with him. It was parallel to the runway, which stuck out from the stage. Why, of all people, did I have to sit with France?

I was pouting and sipping my Shirley Temple. I think he thought I was actually drinking.

He definitely was. And smoking this clove cigarette and being all weird and contemplative as we waited for the show to start.

"I have ze most magnifique idea for a performance," he said, blowing smoke in my face. "I shall smoke zis on ze stage. Dressed in a beret and striped shirt. And play ze part of a mime!"

I coughed. "What the heck are you talking about?"

"It will be silent," he continued, weirding me out. "As is customary for a mime, of course. I shall strip, throwing my beret dramatically into ze crowd, peeling off my striped garments sensually, all while employing ze beautiful craft of miming into my act. It shall be a work of art!"

"Pfft, yeah, because everyone thinks mimes are sexy."

/SARCASM

I looked around. Pretty much everyone was there. Japan and China were at the table next to mine, also parallel to the stage, drinking sake or something.

"Quite an operation you have running here," said China to Japan.

"Thank you," replied Japan. "As a ferrow accomplished businessman, I take that as a high complement."

"You could make more." China was still sipping the sake. "Just taking off clothes gets boring. You do more, you make more."

"Do more what, specificary?"

"I have much toys for sale. So much. So much dildo! And vibrators and beads and plugs and –"

"Oh my, excuse me," Japan said suddenly. "Are you suggesting I have the countries incorporate these items into their performances?"

"Yes!" said China. "You incorporate Chinese dildo! I give you good deal. Your customers love, you make more money, everybody happy joy luck."

"Eavesdropping, America?" France asked slyly, staring at me.

I slowly nodded. "I … I am horrified."

"I shall call you rater regarding pricing and quantities," said Japan.

"Ah, good!" exclaimed China. "You won't be sorry! Everybody love dildo!"

"Okay …" I said. "Now I am very horrified."

France shrugged. "It is a strip club. What do you expect?"

"Not talk of cheaply made, lead-tainted, butt-penetrating toys!"

France swirled his wine. "Such is life."

On the other side was Sweden and Finland sitting together. Also getting drunk. Sweden was so drunk he didn't slur his words and I could actually understand WTF he was saying for once!

"When we get home," I heard him say to Finland. "Lock Sealand in the basement with some Dinky car toys. Because we are going to tear that new IKEA bed up."

"But … hic …" Finland was preeeetty drunk. On like, two daiquiris. LOL, what a lightweight. "Everything tears those shoddy beds up, hic."

"I meant I'm going to have the sex with you."

"Ohhhh … hic … I gotta find those Dinky toys …"

I was shocked! D: I'd never heard Sweden and Finland talk like that before! I nervously sipped my non-alcoholic drink and looked around some more. I noticed this place brought out the worst in people. I dunno if it was the alcohol, or just the lusty environment, or the smell of sweat and lotion in the air. But it was weird :I

I saw Germany and Italy sitting together not too far away. They too were drinking pretty heavily. Italy was sloshed! And whining. He's a whiney drunk.

"He … he … he …" stammered Italy, his head on the table. "… he put hot dogs … in the … PIZZA CRUST …"

"Yes, yes," replied Germany, putting on his best p-p-p-poker face. "You told me."

"IN THE PIZZA CRUST!" Italy sobbed. He was crying like a faucet. "WHYYYY? WHYYYYY? It's soooo wrong!"

"Now, now." Germany didn't look too comforting holding onto his beer for dear life instead of like patting Italy on the back or something. "Sausages go vell vith everything, ja? And hot dogs are like sausages."

"Noooooo," Italy whined. "Not in my pizza!"

Germany sighed. "Don't make a scene."

"It's pizza blasphemy!" he sobbed. "Nothing like a sausage should be stuffed in the pizza crust! ME AND THE POPE CAN'T STOP CRYING!"

"You better stop crying," warned Germany. "Or no … sausage … from me tonight."

Italy stopped crying.

"Fraaaance …" I whined. "I wanna go home."

"But ze show hasn't even started," he replied. "Why would you ever want to do zat?"

"I'm learning things about countries I didn't want to know. Like who bangs who and I'm going to have nightmares."

"Honhohon," chuckled France. "Want me to tell you more? I keep pretty close tabs on who sleeps with who."

"No. Stop talking to me."

I almost actually wanted the show to start so this would be over with. But like when you go to the movies, they always make you wait later than the actual time they say the movie starts. And THEN they play stupid previews. In fact, lately, they play stupid COMMERCIALS! Like the same ones they play on TV! By the time your movie actually starts it's like a half hour later and you don't even remember what you were gonna see. WTF was I talking about …

Oh yeah. Waiting for the strip show to start. Luckily there's no previews. Wouldn't that be weird though? Previews at a strip club … I'm imagining this … better keep it to myself or China and Japan will figure out a way to make it happen D:

I kept looking around. I dunno why, since I only found more disturbing things. Like Russia sitting at a larger table a little farther back, with the Baltics and Belarus and Ukraine. The heck? Sitting with your sisters at a strip club? Yeah that's not awkward at all …

"I don't always drink vodka," said Russia, doing his Dos Equis guy impression. "But when I do, I drink all you sookas under the table."

"Um, n-no argument there!" said Lithuania, who did not look happy to have to sit next to him.

"Yes, I don't believe you will find many challengers on that," said Estonia.

"Someone challenge me!" demanded Russia. "I want drinking contest!"

They all looked at each other nervously.

"I'll do it," said Latvia also nervously.

"LATVIAAAAAA!" exclaimed Estonia.

"What?" asked Latvia. "If I win, maybe Russia won't lock the three of us in the basement like he normally does every night."

I wonder if Russia gives them car toys too …

I pretended not to notice as Russia and Latvia starting downing shot after shot of vodka. With Belarus cheering for Russia, "GO BIG BROTHER GO BEAT THAT BRAT KID YOU CAN DO IT FUNNEL THAT VODKA WITH YOUR WATER PIPER LIKE A BEER BONG GO GO GO!" … with everyone else sitting around them awkwardly and nervously.

Suddenly, Poland walked up to them. "Hey, guys. What are you playing? I call winner!"

"Shut up, Poland, you cannot even into space," said Russia in between shots.

Poland frowned. "Oh."

"HEY!" someone suddenly shouted to me. I looked over and saw a table full of the other three Nordics. Denmark was looking at me with a beer raised. "Nice show last week!"

"Oh, uh, thanks," I said back to him, also raising my glass.

"To be honest, I was expecting a little more …" He trailed off, but moved his hands like he was squeezing something. Reminded me of kneading dough or something. God I wished I was back at the Pizza Hut eating hot dog stuffed crust pizza …

"What's that?" I asked.

"You know." Denmark wriggled his eyebrows. "More to love. Cushion for the pushin'. Blubber on the poopdeck."

"What," I said. Not asked. I kinda just squeaked it out.

"Us former Vikings know our way around the whales, right?" Denmark elbowed Norway beside him. Norway rolled his eyes but then nodded. "We were all thinking … MAN THE HARPOONS!"

"Honhonhon," chuckled France, who was listening to all this. "In case you are not following, America, zey thought you were going to look fat without your clothes on."

"Shut up, France."

"But surprisingly, you were rather fit!" said Denmark. "Which was a shame, because we had a pool going on, betting on how overweight you were!"

"I lost 2500," sighed Iceland.

"DOLLARS? !" I exclaimed.

"No, puffins," he said sarcastically. "Yes, dollars. What a stupid question."

I couldn't believe they were betting on how fat I was! Calling me a whale. Hmmph. Four or five kilos is NOT enough to qualify as a whale! I guess. I really need to look up the metrics system. Still, what they said was pretty douchey.

Moar like NorDICKS, am I right?

Just then I heard a thud. I looked over and Latvia had passed out on the floor.

"Yaaaay," said Russia. "A winner is me!"

"Congratulations," said Belarus. "Your prize is marriage. The bride is me!"

"… I am crying tears of vodka."

"Psst, France," I whispered. "How much longer until the show starts?"

"Patience is a virtue," he replied. "I rather enjoy zis pre-show anyway. Always involves some sort of drama. See what you've been missing?"

"I don't like drama."

"Nonsense, everybody loves others' drama." France pointed to a table nearby with Spain and Romano. "Take zem, for instance. Listen carefully and you will hear a beautiful story of misery. Some sort of dramatic, ah, perhaps romantic tale unfolding. What is it about others' despair zat so enthralls us? I don't know, but it is certainly captivating. Listen in and savor it like a fine wine, breathe it in like a cigarette and let it fill your lungs with amusement at zeir woes and ze contentment zat zey and not yours as well."

I looked to their table. Romano was yelling at Spain.

"THE POPE YELLED AT ME FOR WATCHING THAT INTERNET PORN, YOU IDIOT!"

"Ah, disregard that," said France. "I thought zey were talking about something else."

"Lo siento!" exclaimed Spain in Mexican. "Why didn't you clear your el interneto history though?"

"WHO AM I, BILL GATES? !" yelled Romano. "That's the last time I listen to you telling me to Google things."

"At least we learned what the Surra de Bunda is!"

Note to self. Never, ever, ever Google that.

Just then, something happened. The lights dimmed. People started to shut up finally. And I heard an announcer.

"Hey, everybody!" he said over the speaker. "Shut your mouths or put more awesome beer inside them, because it's time for the show to start!"

"Is that … Prussia?" I asked.

France nodded. "He's the DJ."

"Hey, idiot," I heard Prussia say to … someone. "Start the music. No, not that one. The other one. Get it right!"

"It's hard when you don't actually label the music," I heard Austria say over the speaker.

"DON'T SPEAK INTO THE MICROPHONE! You are to be seen, not heard."

"But I do the music. Vat am I but to be heard?"

"… SHUT UP."

Finally, the music did start. And I was very, very confused.

"Chumbawumba?" I asked. "Not exactly the sexiest of music."

"Heh heh …" chuckled France. "England requested 'Satisfaction' by the Rolling Stones. But I thought zis would be more amusing."

"So you replaced it with 'Tubthumping' … haha. You troll you."

France smiled and bowed.

A spotlight fell on the stage. The curtain rustled but no one came out. It looked like there was struggle or something. I could hear whispering.

Finally, England was shoved out. I saw Hungary push him from behind the curtain. "You get out there and you strip!"

England stumbled, but caught himself. "This isn't the music I asked for!"

"You're being recorded so don't do anything to embarrass yourself!" said Hungary. She closed the curtain. "Go dance!"

With the curtain closed, England looked out to the audience awkwardly. And froze.

Oh, man. You guys. You should have SEEN what England was wearing! He was covered – almost his whole body! — with balloons. Yes, balloons. Like regular run-of-the-mill normal balloons, like you'd find at a party. They weren't fully blown so they were a little smaller than normal though, and packed closely to each other so you couldn't see the skin underneath. And they were green, like his eyes.

"HAHAHAHA!" I burst into laughter. "England's like a sexy version of the old man from UP!"

I expected people to laugh at that. Be like "haha, America, you so funny!" and LAWL all over the place. But instead they just looked at me awkwardly :/

"What gives?" I whispered to France.

"You tell me," said France. "You said he was sexy, after all."

"That was a joke!"

It was hard for England to be sexy with "I GET KNOCKED DOWN, BUT I GET UP AGAIN, YOU'RE NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN!" blasting over the speakers. Not exactly a sexy song, am I right? But England didn't have a choice. The music was going, people were watching, the spotlight was focused on him, and apparently the camera was rolling. Somewhere …

Besides all those balloons, England was also wearing tall black boots and black gloves. He was holding something too. A long needle.

"Traditionally, British strip clubs used ze fan method," said France. "Due to a ban on total nudity. Zey would use fans and move zem along zeir bodies, giving watchers peeks and tantalizing but never showing zem everything."

"Yeah, uh, thanks for the history lesson," I said.

"I thought he would pick that," shrugged France. "But he insisted on ze balloons. Who am I to deny someone a chance to express himself? Would be a travesty." He smirked at me. "Plus, zis way will show more skin."

"Riiiight …"

England slowly (and awkwardly) walked his way out to the middle of the stage. Where the pole was. He grabbed it, and started to grind his body on it … but then realized how dumb that looked with the balloons and stopped. He was just rubbing his balloons on the metal pole. Not very sexy. Plus it made some static! His hair stood up for a few seconds, haha.

"Wow, England kinda sucks," I whispered. "He ever done this before?"

"Once, though it was quite a while ago," said France. "It was just as awkward. Imagine him slowly shimmying out of his Britannia Angel outfit while his Marshmallow Song plays hauntingly all around."

"The one that sounds like it's summoning the devil? ! Yikes! That would give me nightmares."

"Indeed. I had both nightmares and wet dreams from it. Quite an unusual combination – wetting ze sheets from both urine and ze fluids of le amour at ze same time."

"Dude, TMI."

As the music blared "PISSIN' THE NIIIIIGHT AWAAAAAY" England held up the needle. I tensed because duh, needles are scary. With a little sway of his hips, he stuck it in one of the balloons on his chest. It popped.

"AHHH!" I screeched.

People stared. Oops. Balloons popping always startles me :(

But luckily they returned their attention to the show. England kept popping random balloons to the music.

"HE DRINKS A WHISKEY DRINK" …. POP!

"HE DRINKS A VODKA DRINK" … POP!

"HE DRINKS A LAGER DRINK" … POP!

"HE DRINKS A CIDER DRINK" … POP!

For those of you counting, England had popped five balloons. You couldn't see too much though. Only little bits of skin.

"WHOOOO!" shouted a very drunk Russia from the back. "Go back to part about vodka! Yaaaay vodka! Hic ..."

Latvia was still unconscious. Lucky bastard.

England turned around on the stage. So that his back was facing us. He bent over, assuming the position for you know what (buttsex) and popped two more balloons. One on each ass cheeks. POP POP!

Then he quickly turned back around and smirked at us. No wait. He smirked at … me?

Then he winked at me like ;)

"Honhonhon," chuckled France. "Better have you singles ready, eh, America?"

"What! No way, dude. I'm not giving him anything."

England grabbed the pole again. He slammed his hips against it. Like thrusted into it like he was trying to make it pregnant or something. I was like WHOA, DUDE. Without balloons covering his crotch he would have been in major cock-and-ball pain city. Population: England's cock-and-balls.

He kept grinding and grinding. Then he looked frustrated. I think he was trying to pop one of the balloons there by crushing it against the pole, but it wasn't working. It just stretched instead.

Suddenly, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I looked and it was Hungary, holding a video camera. "I'm taping tonight's performance. I wanted to let you know someone already bought a copy for you!"

"What? ! No, I don't want it!"

"It's too late," she said, aiming the camera at England's awkwardly grinding balloony body. "We already have his money and Japan will be upset if we lose it with a refund."

"Fine, keep the money! Just keep the video, too!"

"No." She looked back at me with a smirk. "I want to see what happens with this. Maybe even record it."

"RECORD WHAT? !"

"We'll see," was all she said. Then she just giggled and walked away to get a better angle for the camera. Cryptic bitch.

Oh, what I wouldn't do to run away from this godawful country and go back to England. Um, the actual country, I mean. Not the guy. I was tired of France. I mean the actual country this time (the Peninsula Hammock is in France) though the guy was annoying too. I just wanted to leave and hop on the underwater choo choo train to England and go back and eat more hot dog stuffed crust pizza! I'd give anything to be at Pizza Hat instead of this stupid strip club. LOL, I called it Pizza Hat instead of Hut. Well, the roof does look like a hat to me!

At this point, with the song almost over, England had popped about a baker's dozen of balloons. That's thirteen for those of y'all not familiar with bakers. Suck it, metric system. You could see patches of skin from where some balloons were missing, but no naughty bits yet.

Well, okay, you could see some of his ass, but that's it. (Not that I was looking too much.)

Oh noes. He started walking straight for me! Strutting down that runaway, staring and smirking right at me! Fudgesticks …

He popped a couple more balloons on the way, POP POP POP! 

Just then, the song ended. England hesitated. I think he was hoping for the song he actually asked for to come on. But NOPE! It was the same damn song! Tubthumping by Chumbawumba! All over again! LOL, France, you truly are a troll.

England looked annoyed and France HOL'd. (That's Honhonhon' Out Loud.)

With England still closing in on me, I needed get out of there quick! I whispered to France, "I gotta go potty."

"Surely you can hold it a few more minutes?" he asked all smugly and Frenchly. "He's coming zis way, after all."

"That's why I gotta gooooo!"

But crap. It was too late. I looked up and England was standing right in front of me on the runway. Hands on his hips, smirking down at me in those black boots.

France held up a bill but England completely ignored him! Instead he turned around and bent over again. Bent really far! And spread his legs a little!

POP!

He popped the balloon that covered his guiche. (That's the taint for those of you who don't know what a guiche is.) (That's the space between your butthole and your junk for those of you don't know what a taint is.) (That's also called the perineum for scientists.) (You just learned something today!)

So I could almost see his balls and almost see his asshole … but not quite.

"Like what you see, America?" asked England, looking at me through his legs, still bent over backwards.

My Shirley Temple was shaking in my hand. "I-I-I like balloons."

POP!

He popped another balloon, this time on his ass.

"Yeah? I don't. I think I'll pop them all."

POP!

That was the last ass balloon. I could see all of his butt! He wasn't even wearing a G-string!

The popping startled me and I spilt my drink all over my lap! BRR! I shivered from suddenly getting my junk all cold and wet. Well, that was eleven dollars down the crapper.

"Which shall I pop?" England asked, looking at me all slyly between his legs. He moved the needle to the one in front of his junk. "Here?"

Why the heck was I shaking like that? Must be from the cold. "Umm …"

The tip of the needle pressed into the balloon. You should have seen the look on England's face! So … so … so sexual! He was really getting off on this.

"I'm so glad you came, America," he said, still with that lusty smirk.

"NO I DIDN'T IT'S SHIRLEY TEMPLE!"

"Heh heh ..."

And then, he pressed the needle all the way in. POP!

So I got a face full of British junk.

I froze and turned bright red. But almost everyone else in the club (almost forgot about them, huh?) cheered and whooped and huzzahed.

"Money shot!" I heard Hungry yell. I mean Hungary. I am hungry. (For hot dog stuffed crust pizza, y'all.)

Lots of dollar bills were being thrown on the stage. They were making it rain! But England paid no mind. He just kept staring at me from between his legs, staring hardcore like he thought I was gonna break at any second. But I didn't. I just sat in pure shock like :S

"I GET KNOCKED DOWN! BUT I GET UP AGAIN! YOU'RE NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN!"

You know what? Chumbawumba was right. I may get knocked down. I might get a face full of English cock-and-balls. But I get up again. (Like metaphorically. Not up like an erection.) England wasn't gonna keep me down!

Sooooo … I ran. I jumped up from the table and bolted. For where? Hell if I knew. I don't know my way around the club. I just had to get away from England and his now exposed penis and testicles and also the guiche.

X

So there I was. In the bathroom of the Peninsula Hammock. Awkwardly leaning my crotch into the hand dryer to try to dry my pants. Damn place didn't have any paper towels! Friggin' tree huggers …

And that dryer got hot fast! I sighed and gave up. Don't wanna burn my junk.

I looked into the mirror and wondered what the heck I was gonna do. I couldn't go back out there! Everyone had seen me run away! I just suddenly pussed out and jammed outta there! How could I face them again? You know France is gonna have some smartass thing to say! He ALWAYS does! And the Nordicks will make a joke or two, you know that. And Prussia – damn, he would say something over the speakers and EVERYONE will laugh! Because you know it will be a funny joke too because he's just a funny guy.

Even the countries not like that will still make little comments. Germany whispering to Italy, Japan and China speaking their ching chang chong talk about me, Sweden saying … whatever the F he says to Finland. That guy confuses me. Gosh, I don't like being the center of their gossip! (Well, BAD gossip anyway.)

But the worst of all was gonna be England. How could I face him again? How do you look someone in the eye after looking them in the cock? I mean, I saw it. I saw all his junk. There's no going back from that. And knowing he did it just because he wants to bang me? You know that's gonna be all kind of awkward city.

I sighed into the mirror. "Gosh darn it …"

"Hey, America."

I turned around. "Whoa, you startled me!"

"Sorry."

It was Canada. Leaning against one of the stall doors.

"I didn't know you were at the club," I said. "I didn't see you out there."

"That's because I wasn't. I've been in here."

I frowned. "Why's that? You got the runs or something?"

"No."

Canada looked nervous. He wouldn't look me in the face – he kept looking all around.

"Then why?"

"Umm …" He awkwardly fiddled with the stall door handle. "Well … a-a-actually … I was hoping … augh, I don't know how to say this."

"Just say it!" I snapped.

"I … um … want to call in that favor."

PHEW! I sighed in relief. Something to do! An excuse not to go back in the club and have to face everybody and also England's naked body! Dunno why Canada was so nervous about asking. I was happy to oblige! :D

"Sure, bro," I replied. "What is it?"

"Uh …" He stared at the floor hardcore. "I want to have sex with you."

D:

I was shocked, you guys! SHOCKED! Okay, not that shocked since I already knew he wanted to bang me. France had told me all about that awkward story and the soufflés. But still pretty shocked that he was actually saying I had to go through with it!

"WHAT!" I exclaimed. "Like ACTUAL sex? Actual factual sex? ! Me and you? ! With our bodies? !"

Canada was so red. "… yes."

"Like …" I was trying to process all this … "Actually doing it? Actually putting my penis inside your butthole? Like for real?"

"No." Canada smiled nervously at the floor. "Other way around. I put it in you."

D':

I was shocked all over again! Though really … I kinda knew that much too. I knew he wanted to put his hot dog in my crust. But still! He was calling in a favor! And I couldn't refuse! I thought when he said he wanted a favor it'd be something stupid and Canadian like helping rescue beavers or building igloos for the homeless or smoking a bowl with him because he secretly does that crap and I give him a hard time for it. Not sticking his penis inside me!

"Well … um …" I started. "Let's talk about this later, okay? We'll, uh, work something out."

"No," said Canada. "I wanna do it now."

"NOW? In the bathroom? !"

"Yes."

EEEEEWWW! Bathroom sex? ! Think of all the germs!

… WTF. I don't give a shit about germs when I was about to get pounded in the ass! And on such short notice too! I need time to mentally prepare myself, ya know? Time to wrap my head around the fact that a cock was gonna be penetrating my butthole. Let it process in my brains. Let it … sink in.

Canada pulled something from his pocket. "I brought lube."

Man. He really did plan all this out. No wonder he agreed so quickly when I asked him to perform in my place as a stripper! He had this all worked out from the beginning. Do me the favor, and ask for one in return. Then make that favor buttsecks. From me. Sneaky Canadian bastard!

"Do you have a preference how we do this?" Canada asked, still sounding nervous. "Like against the wall, or the sink, or I suppose we could do it on the floor but that seems a little gross considering this is a bathroom …"

"Uh, yeah! The floor's already sticky and we haven't even done anything yet."

Eeew. That made me wonder what else had happened on that floor. This was a strip club, after all. You know people popped boners during the shows. And what do people do with boners? Well, there's more than one option, but some of them end in sticky messes. They should at least try to wipe it up with a paper towel or something though, jeez.

"Let's do it against the wall," said Canada. "Turn around and lean against it, please?"

Hahaha, Canada says 'please' for sex.

Wait a minute — what am I laughing for? ! I was about to get penetrated! And I didn't really plan on doing that today! Not with a penis anyway. Just pizza-to-mouth.

But I didn't have much of a choice, so before I knew it, I was pressed face first into the wall, with Canada right behind me.

He was reaching around me, undoing my button and zipper. "Why are your pants already wet?"

Crap, he probably thinks I went pee pee in them. Or … worse. "I spilled my drink," I said.

"Oh … okay. I'll leave them on the sink to dry while we do this then."

How thoughtful. (/sarscam.)

I had to take off my shoes (eeew my socks touched that nasty sticky floor!) for Canada to get my pants completely off. He shimmied them off of me and laid them out nicely on the bathroom sink to dry.

"Just how long were you planning on taking? To ... you know. Bang me?" I asked. I mean, apparently it was long enough for my pants to dry! Jeez! Either Canada's got a lot of stamina or he is severely underestimating the wetness of my pants.

He shrugged, coming up behind me again. "I don't know. As long as it takes. I'd prefer to savor it though …"

Ugghh. I could be back at Pizza Hut right now SAVORING some hot dog stuffed crust pizza. But noooo. I just had to go to this strip club and had to be sexually harassed by England and had to run into the bathroom to hide and had to run into Canada who had to call in a favor I owed and he had to pick sex. Think of all the pizza I was missing out on!

Canada rolled down my boxers.

"Forgive me if … um …" He was fumbling for the bottle of lube. "… I'm not very good at this. It's been a while since I've done this."

LIAR. I know he slept with France. They made pre-sex soufflés together and everything! Where was my pre-sex food? I could go for some pre-sex food. Especially if it was hot dog stuffed crust pizza. Or almost anything, really. I was just really hungry. (But not for soufflés, that's friggin' gay.)

Speaking of getting gay …

I heard the lube bottle pop open. I swallowed and closed my eyes. I just wanted this to be over with …

"Has … has it been a while for you?" asked Canada.

As he asked that, I felt two hands spreading me apart.

"Eeeep," I squeaked.

There I was. Pinned against the bathroom wall. Elbows pressed against it, face flattened on one side as it was smashed against the wall too. Eyes squeezed shut. And butt now spread open :/

"Eh?" asked Canada when I didn't respond.

"Dude," I started, still not opening my eyes. "Nobody has ever stuffed their hot dog in my crust before."

"Nobody?" His voice sounded shocked. And not just because of my pizza metaphor, despite how clever it was. "Whoa – um – oh. I just assumed – I guess. I mean – I didn't know. I just thought … oh, wow, I'm just surprised."

What, did Canada think I was a whore? Come on now. I didn't even wanna be a stripper! And that didn't even involve actual sex. Just taking off my clothes and getting naked. If I didn't even wanna take my clothes off he should have known I'm not a whore! I spend my time shoving pizza in my hole, not penises. (My mouth hole.) Who does he think I am, France?

"I'll be gentle," said Canada.

Damn. I thought saying that would deter him. Guess not!

I felt a cold, wet finger press against my asshole.

"Eeeep!" I squeaked again.

Canada's other hand rubbed soothingly against my ass cheek. "Shhh … relax …"

So this was it. I was about to take it in the ass. Well, you know what they say. In situations like these, you just gotta lie back and think about Engl … ish pizza.

I was actually licking my lips and thinking about pizza when I felt the first finger push in. My eyes sprang open.

Canada felt me tighten up. "You okay?"

He moved his finger. It was wet and cold. Not like a hot dog. Hot dogs are warm and … well, I guess they're slightly moist. That's a weird word … MOIST. Say it out loud. Even your mouth feels moist when you say it. Blecch. Anyway, they get like hot dog sweat on them. But you know what I mean. They're not like dripping wet like Canada's lubey finger was.

"I'm gonna add the second one, all right?"

And he did. Welp! Guess I know what that pizza crust felt like! Being stuffed like that. Two fingers are bigger than a hot dog so yeah. Goddamn I'm hungry.

Canada kept working his fingers. Pulling them out and them shoving them back in. Like they were a penis or a hot dog. I bit my lip as to not keep squeaking because that wasn't exactly cool. This was some pretty awkward sex, huh? Yeah. And then I made it even more awkward.

"Why did you sleep with France?"

Canada's fingers suddenly jerked inside me. "Wha … what? Where did you hear that?"

"France."

He started moving his fingers again. Thrusting inside and spreading me. "I-I don't wanna talk aboot that."

"I'm not making soufflés with you after this," I said. "And if you cry I'm not gonna hold you while we don't eat them." I'm still bitter about not getting food :I I mean he's gonna put it in me, at least buy me dinner first, damn!

Canada pulled his fingers out. "I can't believe he told you all that. That was private."

"Well, you know how France is. He loves the drama. He rides the drama llama all the time."

Canada didn't reply. Instead I heard him unzip. And the rustle of clothes as he pulled down his pants. RUSTLE RUSTLE!

And then SLISH SLISH! As he lubed himself up. I glanced back over my shoulder to take a gander at what was about to be inside me. My eyes widened O_O

I'd forgotten how big penises are! How did that slip my mind? I need to get on the Internets more.

"Whoa, it's huge!" I exclaimed. "And I'm not saying that as a compliment, I'm friggin' worried for my butthole!"

"Eighteen centimeters," said Canada.

Well, that meant nothing to me. I have no idea what that is in inches. Stop trolling me, metric system!

Canada slathered on lots of lube. "You'll be okay. Just relax."

"How can I relax when you're about to shove eighteen kilos up my — OOOF!" I was cut off as my face was slammed back against the wall. Well, like half of it. But still! That was pretty rough!

"Oh, sorry!" said Canada. "I didn't mean to do that so hard. You okay?"

"I guess."

"Okay, good, because I'm putting it in now."

Boy, Canada doesn't mess around. This was moving so fast!

So then I felt it. The tip of his cock pressed against my cold, shivering butthole. And then plunge its way inside. Inch after inch (because I'm non-metric like that) disappeared inside me, and just like that, I had my crust fully stuffed of Canadian hot dog.

"Eeeeee …" I squeaked out.

"Oh my God," Canada whispered into my neck. "You're even tighter than my hand when I fantasized aboot this …"

Dude, TMI :/

Then I got a headache, because Canada started rocking himself into me. And with each thrust, my head went into the wall.

Thump thump thump

"Ouch. Ouch. Ouch," I said. And not just because my head was getting hit up against the wall. I was getting pounded in the ass! That was a little uncomfortable too. My hole was being stretched like crazy. Each time he penetrated me, I felt it again, and I felt sorry for pizza crust across all of the UK.

Canada's hands were roaming. Feeling and clawing at whatever he could reach. Mostly my chest. One hand slipped up my shirt and started rubbing at me there. It made me squirm. So many sensations at once! Hitting my head against the wall, fingers tracing along the skin of my chest, a cock in my ass. It's a lot to take in! Eighteen meters or something.

Canada's fingers found a nipple and pinched it.

"Ffffff—" I hissed.

Canada's other hand was traveling down. It slipped over my tummy and kept going, where it brushed against my crotch.

"Are you hard, America? I can't feel—"

POP!

Suddenly the thrusts stopped. Canada froze inside me. His cock was about three-fourths of the way in (dunno what three-fourths is in metric.) Then we both looked over to the direction of the noise.

England stood by the bathroom door. Staring directly at us.

Uh oh. You know this was gonna be some drama! England walking in on Canada fucking me in the ass? He wasn't gonna be too happy about that.

England was still wearing the tall black boots and black gloves, but there was only one more balloon left on England. The rest was exposed skin or the little latex pieces of balloon still stuck to him and left behind.

England stuck the needle in the last balloon.

POP!

Both me and Canada flinched.

"The hell's going on in here?" demanded England. The way he was holding the needle made me super nervous. Like he wanted to pop us for what we were doing!

Canada and I were speechless. Because really, what were we gonna say? 'Oh, England! You won't believe it! Our pants accidentally fell off and Canada slipped and his cock went up my ass and then he kept slipping over and over into me'? And then shrug sheepishly and do our best Steve Urkel impression, "DID I DO THAAAAT?" … because I don't think England was gonna buy that.

But I'm smart. So I thought up something to say, hehe.

"Ohhh!" I fake sobbed. "Please don't fight over me! Please don't get into a big dramatic argument over who gets to be with me while I slip out of the bathroom while you two are distracted and get on the choo choo train and get out of here to eat pizza! That would be a TRAGEDY!"

Canada gave me a hurt look. "Eh?"

"Fight over you?" asked England. "I'd hardly waste the energy when you have two perfectly good holes."

"… what," I squeaked.

"There's two of us, and you have two holes," said England. "Simple maths. Of course, I'd prefer to have you to myself, but I'm not going to waste an opportunity in which I find you already undressed and roughed up, ready for taking. How foolish would that be?"

I couldn't believe what England was saying. I was literally shaking as I leaned against the wall! "Wha … what? I don't have two holes."

"Of course you do. You're using the other right now."

Then I got what he meant. "THAT'S MY PIZZA HOLE!" I exclaimed. "For stuffing pizza inside! Not penises!"

"Both will fit."

D:

This was one crazy day. I went from seeing England's junk, to seeing Canada's junk, to getting Canada's junk shoved inside me, and now apparently England's junk was gonna be shoved inside me too. Two cocks in one day! That's a lot of inches.

I thought (HOPED) Canada was gonna be mad about having to share me. But he was actually okay with it! I don't know if it was because he was glad England didn't flip out and stab him with that needle and was relieved, or if he just really really wanted to keep going and didn't care how. I dunno.

What I did know was that somehow I ended up on that gross sticky floor. On my hands and knees. With Canada on my butt end, and England on my face end. And I was sandwiched in between them like the filling in a Meat Trio or Italian Steak or Buffalo Chicken P'Zolo. P'Zolos are what Pizza Hut makes instead of sandwiches now, in case that reference was above you.

England rubbed his thumb against my lips. "I'll enjoy your arse another day," he said, smirking. "But for now, I'm getting hard just thinking about your delicious lips wrapped around me."

Uh, whoa, dude. I don't need to know your creepy fantasies about me … yikers.

I felt Canada suddenly reenter me from behind. I yelped "EEEP!" because warn a guy, damn!

"Shhh," hushed England. He slipped his thumb inside my mouth. "You don't know how many times I've fantasized about this. You beneath me, mouth open wide. Wrapping your lips around my length. Sucking me in. Taking me all in. My entire cock, all the way to the hilt, every last centimeter …"

I am so tired of the damn metric system.

"I've cum so many times to the image of you on your knees, my cock down your throat, fucking your mouth until you choke …"

:I

England's a freaking pervert.

And so was Canada! During all this dirty England talk, he was banging me from behind! Thrusting into me like we'd never been interrupted by someone else! Nope, he just went right on back to business. Humping away.

This was all happening so fast!

Yeah, definitely. Because England was pulling off some sticky balloon pieces to clear room. Once his crotch area was completely clear, he grabbed his cock. It was fully hard.

"Open up," he said, tilting up my chin.

Then I suddenly tasted a mouthful of British cock. It tasted a lot different than British pizza. British pizza tastes much better. England's cock tasted like latex. From the balloons.

"Ohh," whimpered England. "Fuck … this is even better than my hand whilst I fantasized about doing this …"

Okay. I'm noticing a theme here.

"Right?" panted Canada, agreeing. "The real thing is so much better."

"Indeed," replied England.

WTF! Those two should be FIGHTING over me! Not sharing me, one on each end! What's with all this politeness, damn.

"Use your tongue," said England. He was about a couple inches in.

I sighed and obeyed. I suppose the faster he came the faster this would be over with.

"Shit," he swore. His hands came around and held me by the back of the head. "That feels fucking amazing."

As I slurped on England's cock, I felt Canada get faster. His hands reached and grabbed onto my love handles for leverage. Crap, I forgot I had those. Thanks a lot, pizza …

"I don't even mind that you've gained a little weight," panted Canada, still humping the hell outta me. "Gives me something to hold onto."

"I don't particularly mind either," said England. His fingers tightened in my hair. "The more food you shovel into your throat the less of a gag reflex you have. Isn't that right, America?"

England pushed deeper into me.

"Mmmph," I whined. But didn't choke. Damn. I guess I did lose some of my gag reflex!

So England pushed even deeper. Until he hit the back of my throat. Which did hurt, and I whined again, but then realized he was completely inside anyway. I had his entire cock in my mouth.

"Fuuuuck …" moaned England. "That feels so good …"

"Ahh, how splendid," said a voice from the door. "I like zis show much better."

All three of us looked over. It was France! In a chair! Yep, he actually had pulled a chair up to watch us! Just sitting there all casually with his cigarette and wine watching us like it was a show. How long had he been there? !

"MMMMMPH!" I squealed. But I had a cock down my throat, so no one understood me.

"Get out of here, France," snapped England. "Can't you see we're busy?" Yeah, because he didn't bother to pull his cock out of my mouth while speaking …

"Oh, I definitely see. Zat's why I brought a seat, no?"

"I reeeeally should have locked that door …" said Canada. Who also didn't pull out.

France tossed some bills on the floor next to us. "Ah, what a lovely show. My manhood is turgid from your performance."

"Thank you," said Canada, who is way too polite.

"No, thank you," replied France. "May I make a request? England, you should blow smoke in his face as you penetrate his mouth. Zat is a kink of mine, honhonhon."

"Oh, you are taking requests?" asked Japan, who I didn't realize was also in the doorway. "I would also rike to make one."

"No, no, no," said England. "Get out of here – I don't want an audience!"

Japan held up a video camera. "I will give you a free copy, England-san. For your masturbatory preasure."

England suddenly had a quick change of heart. "Get as many angles as you can, Japan."

"I shall, England-san."

"MMMMPH!" I protested. But it just came out a garbled mess. Could've gotten away with it if it wasn't for that meddling cock down my throat!

So England and Canada kept going. You can picture this, yes? I'm on my hands and knees on that nasty floor, I'm sucking on England's dick, Canada's thrusting into my ass from behind, France is sitting on a chair watching us with a very obvious boner, and Japan is moving all around us with a video camera, zooming it and out getting all sorts of graphic angles.

I really should have just let them tell Michelle Obama I've been cheating on my diet. Even her nasty arugula was better than this! She never shoved arugula up my butt.

"Hmm," said Hungary, looking deep in thought. "May I make a suggestion?"

WTF! When did SHE get here? ! Um, hello! This is the MEN'S room! For MENS ONLY!

"Please do," said France.

"England, I think you should be a bit more forceful," said Hungary. "Instead of just letting America suck you, you should actively fuck his mouth. Hold him tightly by the back of the head and thrust deeply into him."

D:

Well, that's not a very lady-like way to talk! JEEZ! What a pervert. I knew someone who was gonna schlick to this video tonight …

"That's an excellent idea," said England. "Relax your throat, America."

I felt more pressure on the back of my head as England's hands got a better grip. They pulled my head forward, slamming his cock deep into my throat. I whimpered as he pulled back, then plunged back in. He kept going like this. Fucking my throat hardcore.

"Yes, zat is very nice," said France, smoking his cigarette. "Good idea, Hungary."

Uh, no! BAD idea, Hungary! My throat is gonna be too sore to swallow pizza after this!

Suddenly lots of bills fell on us. Someone was really making it rain. No, they made it monsoon! I could only see out of the corner of my eye (England was holding my head pretty tightly as he fucked my mouth) by I could still tell who it was: The Nordicks.

"HAHAHA!" laughed Denmark. "So the show's moved in here, huh? Norway, grab us some seats."

"Go grab them yourself," said Norway.

"HAHA! For a second I thought you said for me to grab myself."

"Hmm," said Iceland, who was staring at my body. "I think I deserve my 2500 back."

"WHOA!" said Denmark. "MAN THE HARPOONS! Haha, I wanted to say that so bad. Who thought that was funny?"

"Not me," said Norway.

GRRR! I was afraid of this. My body being shoved back and forth between two other guys was making my fat jiggle. You could see my pudge moving like Jello! Those extra few pounds are more noticeable when you're being all rustled up by two bodies thrusting into you from both ends.

"Hic … I told you the show was in here …" said Finland as he too stumbled into the room. "Look, everyone is watching."

And then Sweden was in the room too! "So England is slapping his Swedish meatballs against America's chin as Canada takes him behind. Interesting." He threw some bills too.

"This isn't the show!" yelled England.

"Zen why do you continue?" asked France.

"Because it feels BLOODY FUCKING AMAZING!" England replied, still banging me in the mouth.

"Ah, I'm sure." France swirled his glass of wine then raised it high. "To blowjobs."

I heard some cheering. Like "WHOOO!"

"Everybody loves blowjobs!" said Denmark, raising his beer.

Then the room became even MOAR crowded! Because Russia and his posse came in the bathroom. His posse= the Baltics and his sisters. Minus Latvia because he was still passed out. Poor guy can't handle his vodka.

"Yaaay, more show!" said Russia. "I thought it was over. Lithuania, let's make it rain."

"Uh … okay," replied Lithuania.

Aw, crap. Now Russia has seen my extra lb's. Now he was gonna write it in his blog! Frickin' Russian bloggers are such gossips.

Suddenly I felt very wet. And cold. I yelped and tried to look, but England snapped my head right back into place.

"Vodka rain!" Russia said happily.

Russia was pouring vodka on me! All over my semi-naked body! D: That's not what making it rain means! IT MEANS TO GIVE ME LOTS OF MONIES!

I know Lithuania knew. He just didn't say anything because he didn't wanna get locked in the basement again.

"Oh, big brother!" exclaimed Belarus. She pulled open the front part of her blouse. Yikers. "Pour it on ME! Wet my shirt! So that you may see my ample bosom and be tempted to partake of my loins!"

Russia suddenly stopped pouring the vodka on me. "Little sister …" he began. "I am very drunk on the vodka. But no amount of the vodka would make me want that!"

"WHYYYYYYY? !" she screeched. Then ripped off her blouse anyway.

Ukraine slowly, slowly backed away.

"I'll take a look," said France. "You too, Ukraine. I am a big fan of le breasts."

And then Ukraine ran out the door. Lucky bitch!

I was so cold. S-s-so cold. All wet and dripping with vodka. It gave me hard nips :/

Then we got even more company. "ME GUSTA!" shouted Spain as he burst through the door. "Show's not over! Hey, Romano. Check this out!"

"What is it you bast — HOLY SHIT!" shouted Romano as he entered the bathroom. "They're having sex! DAMN IT! You know what the Pope will do to me now if he finds out I saw this? !"

"Nope! Does it involve underage boys?"

"WHAT? !"

"Well, it's the Catholic church, sooo …"

"BASTARD!"

Ahhh. Good. All this yelling and cussing would surely make the video a piece of crap. Cover up all the sexy sounds. Good luck fapping to this now, England! And Canada! And France! And Japan! And Hungary! And everybody else being turned on by this! You gotta listen to everybody bitching and being stupid in the background.

"Excuse me," said a new voice. Augh, another one? SERIOUSLY?

It was Germany!

"Pardon me," he said, pushing past the crowed. "I need to use the restroom." And then he did. He went into the stall, minding his own business.

Phew. At least one person wasn't there to perv on us.

Of course, Italy was right there behind him. He stood in the crowd and waited.

"What are you doing here, Italy?" asked France.

"I just didn't wanna be alone!" Italy replied happily.

"You can sit on my lap if you want."

"Don't," said Germany from the stall. "It's a trap."

"Do," said Japan. "I have a video camera."

But they were interrupted, as some other peoples also burst into the room.

"HEEEEY!" shouted Prussia. "So this is vere everyone vent to! It vas looking pretty scarce out there. Like I wanna be talking to myself! Whoa, sex is happening in here?"

"It appears that vay," sighed Austria, beside him. "I vonder vat kind of music would best accompany this."

"HAHAHA!" laughed Prussia. "Vat's that song that goes like 'And then we'll do it doggy style so ve can both watch X Files'? No wait. How about the one that's like 'I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CAN'T DENY!' because I see that junk in America's trunk."

AUUUGH I KNEW IT! I knew he'd make some joke about my fat and embarrass me!

"I vas thinking …" started Austria, looking deep in thought. "Of Handel. For the … love handles."

"HAHAHA!" laughed Prussia. "Oh, BUUUURN! Musical puns, I love it."

"Yes, I am quite proud of that one," said Austria.

That one took me a minute to get. But when I did, I got angry. I choked on England's cock for a minute and everything! But he pulled out, let me catch my breath, then shoved himself right back in.

"Hey, guys," said Poland as he too walked in. "Make room for me? I wanna see the new show too!"

But no one did make room for him because Poland cannot into space. Not even bathroom space.

More money spilled onto us. From all sorts of countries. Almost all of them threw some! They were really loving this show.

"Zis is good," said France, still sport a major league boner. "But it is missing … something."

"Yes, I agree," said Hungary. "I think I know what it is."

"Do tell."

"America doesn't seem to be enjoying himself very much. Haven't you all noticed? He's only partially hard. Canada, be a lamb and give him a reach-around, would you?"

Crap, I was hoping no one was paying attention to my jibbly bits.

"Sure," replied Canada.

I felt a hand slide underneath me. Then wrap around my cock.

"Mmmph," I whined around England's dick.

"Stroke him well," directed Hungary. "Hard and fast. Make him cum!"

DAMN HUNGARY! ! How much smut you been reading? ! You little pervert …

So Canada obeyed Hungary. He stroked me pretty roughly. I gave him an A for Effort.

"WHOA!" shouted yet another new voice. Aw, jeez. It was China, busting his way up into the bathroom. "I have great new idea! Japan, you listening? You get it on this. We go into this together."

"I'm ristening," said Japan, who was getting a close-up shot of Canada's hand jerking me off. ZOOM ZOOM!

"New idea for show: instead of country taking off clothes – it's country sexing other country!" said China. "First to cum is loser and must repeat for next week. Winner picks new person for loser to sex."

"I like zat idea," said France, eyes lighting up creepily.

Everybody turned and listened. Also getting way too excited for this. I was so creeped out. What does this place DO to people? ! It really did bring out the worst in everyone! I guess I'll blame it on the al-al-al-al-alcohol. Blame it on the vodka. Blame it on the Henney. Blame it on the Blue Top got ya feelin' dizzy :(

"No more challenges – the sex is the challenge!" said China. "For everyone to see. You charge triple, make bank."

"I too rike this idea," said Japan.

"So let me get this straight …" said Hungary. "In this new system, two countries would have sex with each other on stage for everyone to watch. The first to cum must do it again next week. And then the winner gets to pick who the loser is with the next time?"

"Correct!" said China. "It very good idea! Especially if we involve dildo. I really need to sell this surplus of dildo I have."

"… I'll get my credit card after the show," Hungary said in a whisper.

"So it is settled!" announced France. "Zis shall be ze new show at ze Penisula Hammock every week! Who all agrees?"

"WHOOOO!" cheered near about everyone.

"All oppose?" asked France.

"MMMMPH!" I shouted.

"My, my, America."

I didn't shout because I opposed. Though I did. But that wasn't why I shouted.

I'd accidentally cum all over Canada's hand while he was jerking me off.

"Well zen …" said France. "It appears we have our first loser to perform next week."

D:

CRAP WHY DID I DO THAT? !

"England … Canada … you two get to pick who America is with for the next show," said France.

There wasn't even a hesitation.

"US!" they both shouted together.

D':

"Very well then," said France. "It appears next week we will have ourselves an encore performance."

And everyone but me cheered.

X

Epic-logue

The next day

There I was. Sitting where I belong. Back in one of the UK Pizza Huts, scarfing down some hot dog stuffed crust pizza. That's all I'd ever wanted to do to begin with. Not get sodomized and mouth-sodomized. But whatever. No use crying over spilt man milk.

If you're wondering what happened to me and everyone else after that fateful and semenful day, well I guess I'll tell you. But only because I'm so nice and would never leave you hanging, baby. I already told you that earlier. You gotta listen, babe.

I came and England and Canada kept going. I was thinking, 'This makes no sense, shouldn't the one who cums last pick for next time? Not both?' but in the end it didn't even matter. Because they came at like the same time! What are the odds of that? Yep, they both came in me simultaneously, making me like a reverse Oreo (reverse because the cream was on both ends, instead of in the middle. I was in the middle.)

I sighed as I ate. I was sore on both ends. My butt was sore AND my throat was sore. From those penises that poked at them. But that wasn't gonna deter me. I needed this hot dog stuffed crust pizza. I needed it more than EVAR.

NOMNOMNOM.

Suddenly, as I was chowing down, two people sat down next to me in the booth. One on each side. Well, this was familiar. And no, not like France and Japan when they interrupted my feeding earlier. I mean it was familiar to be sandwiched in between England and Canada again. Because that's who it was this time.

My chewing slowed. But didn't stop. "What do y'all want? I'm eating over here."

"We know," said England. "But we needed to tell you something."

"Yes," agreed Canada. "Regarding last night."

GULP. I gulped on some pizza. "What is it?"

"Well, first off all …" began England. "I brought you a gift." He tossed a DVD on the table. "It's us from last night. Both performances – my strip tease and our, heh, show in the bathroom."

"AHHH!" I yelped. "Get that filth off the table! You don't put your sick fapping material by my pizza!"

"I bought it for you …" said England. "Just take it home. Pop it in when you're in that mood … see what happens."

"Man, you're such a pervert."

"There's something else we came to tell you, too," said Canada.

"Yes, we were talking about next week …" said England, looking way too into this to not be creepy. "We were talking about switching."

OH? ? Like … I didn't have to take it in the ass again? I got to be pitcher? I guess it wouldn't be so bad that way …

"Next time I'll take your arse and Canada can have your mouth," finished England.

Canada eagerly nodded.

… aw, crap. That's not what I thought they meant by switching :(

Auggh. Why did they have to agree on this? ! Seriously? SHARING me? And being all polite about it? WTF? I mean I guess getting half of me is better than nothing but still. They shouldn't be so eager to split me like that. I wish they would fight over me. Would make a good distraction.

But no. They gotta be all reasonable and double team me. Ugh.

Perverts. Both of them!

(Polite perverts, but still.)

"That's what we thought originally," said Canada. "But then we got another opinion, and had a better idea."

France. Ugh. You know it had to be France.

"It was Hungary's idea," said England.

I mean … Hungary. You know it had to be Hungary. Knew it all along. Mmyep.

"Not that we won't try that idea first, but then we'll do hers," said England. "I'll enjoy it all."

"What's the new idea?" I asked nervously.

"DP," replied England.

I kept munching my pizza. "You're gonna have to elaborate because the only DP I know is Double Pepperoni."

"Double penetration," said England.

Took me a minute. It slowly, slowly sank in. My chewing gradually came to a stop. Then I sprayed it all over England.

"YOU MEAN BOTH OF YOU IN MY BUTT AT THE SAME TIME? !"

They both nodded. Canada nervously, and England while wiping pizza off his face.

I trembled in horror. "I … I don't think y'all will both fit."

"Oh, we'll fit," said England.

They both stood up, preparing to leave.

"We'll make it fit."

Then they started to walk off. Leaving me sitting in pure shock.

"Use those hot dogs for practice if you need to," said England. "Because everybody is expecting quite a show next week. And we will deliver."

Then … they were gone.

D:

Hot dogs were not made for that! But he was right. I did need to … uh … prepare myself with a little practice. You don't go from barely fitting one penis (it made me sore, after all!) to double dick without some precautionary stretching! I mean you don't turn a pothole into my Grand Canyon in just two dickings. I needed some stretching if I was gonna survive this without internal damage …

But I sure didn't want to use China's lead-tainted dildos made in sweatshops by eight years old kids soooo …

I wept as I ordered a To-Go Box. (Just didn't say it was a To-Go-in-my-Butt-Box.)

(The end.)


End file.
